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Breakheart Hall (Simon Grail)

Breakheart Hall by Simon Grail

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Desperate to earn money to help support her loving mother Sarah, eighteen year old Clare Reed takes a job at Breakheart Hall with the masterful Lucas Tolliver. After passing an obscenely perverse job interview she finds her duties, like those of the other women Tolliver employs, are to serve as a sexual slave for the entertainment of his family and the wealthy attendees of the many conferences and seminars the Hall hosts. Clare is both repulsed and darkly excited by the intimate acts she has to perform and the humiliation she suffers. But despite her confusion she knows she must at all costs keep the secret of the Hall and her true work there from her mother.

Unknown to Clare, however, Sarah Reed is being blackmailed into performing degrading and painful sexual favours for a young man who can destroy Clare’s new career. After her initial revulsion Sarah finds her regular humiliations are awakening long hidden desires within her.

Then, just when it seemed things could not get any stranger for mother and daughter, they fall into the clutches of the sinister Mr Pitch…

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 10 / 2012

Also Available in Paperback - Click Here

No. words: 51294

Style: Sex Slavery / Training, Sado-Masochism (SM)

Available Formats: Palm  MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  Sony Reader (LRF)  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle


Clare was carried into the Hall dining room by Larch and Pine. They were rather like stretcher bearers carrying a pair of poles that were slotted through rings in the sides of a huge silver salver on which Clare rested.
She was literally trussed on her belly like a turkey with many lengths of kitchen cord binding her arms behind her back and her wrists to her ankles in a hogtie. Her skin, rubbed over with butter, glistened. She even had miniature frilly paper hats on her toes like a Crown Roast. However she was lying on a bed of fruits. Slices of pineapple, with its spiky rind uppermost, had been arranged painfully under her breasts, making them bulge outward. A hard green apple was stuffed in her mouth, replacing her gag plug, while a large banana was plugging her vagina. The end of a large firework sparkler had been pushed into her anus and was cracking and fizzing brilliantly between her parted legs.
Clare was parade twice round the table to a round of applause and then set down on a trolley at its end for everybody to admire. The sparkler died and Larch removed it, replacing it in her anus by the prepared stalk of a small bunch of purple grapes. Then the two valets withdrew.
‘Our newest girl,’ Tolliver said to the others. ‘A local find, unusually. Literally walked in off the street. But I think we can make something of her…’
There were six seated at the big table and all were neatly attired: the men in dinner jackets and ties and the woman in dresses. Clearly old fashioned standards still applied to the dinner dress code at the Hall. In addition to Tolliver, Gerald and Jason, there were three other people at the table Clare had not seen before.
The first was an attractive dark-haired woman in an electric blue dress, appearing to be only a few years older than Clare. Then there was an obvious couple, perhaps in their late thirties. She wore a green dress and was also dark haired while his hair was sandy.
None of them registered the slightest surprise at her entrance, but then there were already three naked serving girls in the room. Supervised by Birch they were transferring dishes from a serving trolley to the table, moving with great care because of their chains and hobbles.
The slaves wore the same styles of bridle and collar is Clare did, but they were also confined by slave chains. They wore heavy belts about their waists which were connected by lengths of chains to cuffs about their wrists and ankles, with just enough slack to allow them to perform their duties. Their ankles were also linked by chains, which restricted the length of their stride to shuffling precise steps. To add to their indignity, these hobble chains were raised clear of the ground by sprung chains that ran up between their legs and were secured to rings protruding from between their buttocks, presumably secured by plugs buried in their anuses. Each step caused the sprung chains to tighten, tugging on their bottoms.
These girls moved about the table, deftly setting down the dishes before the diners, who hardly glanced at them. Evidently it was quite normal for them to be surrounded by chained and bound naked female flesh. What a family life, Clare thought dizzily.
‘As we have no guests expected for the next couple of days,’ Tolliver was saying, ‘we can take turns with her in the traditional manner. I had mine yesterday and Jason took advantage of her this morning… in his usual thoughtless ways so please excuse the marks he left on her… therefore Rhea has her tonight.’
Jason scowled at this jibe. However the face of the woman in the blue dress lit up. ‘She looks lovely, Father. Thank you! I’m sure I’ll enjoy her.’
Claire looked at her aghast. Tolliver was her father? That made Jason her uncle. And they were all going to share her sexually! What sort of people were they? Then she realised that was a foolish question. They were an old family of slave owners. Presumably over the generations this behaviour had become the norm.
Rhea was still talking. ‘I want her really eager to please, Father. Can I have her put on ice over dinner?’
‘I think that’s too soon,’ Tolliver said. ‘She was only enslaved yesterday and thanks to Jason she didn’t even finished her basic induction. She’s still quite an innocent.’
‘All the more reason to make the most of her now,’ Rhea said. ‘Besides if Uncle Jason has already had her she can’t have many illusions left about what’s coming to her.’
Jason laughed at that and raised a glass to his niece. ‘Well said, young Rhea.’
‘If I may point out,’ Gerald observed irritably, ‘viewing her purely as a business asset, we should take care of her during her training and induction so that we don’t spoil her value. She must be introduced to slave life gradually.’
‘Well I think its best she’s thrown in at the deep end,’ Rhea said. ‘Anyway if she’s mine tonight then by tradition I can do what I want with her. And I think she’d look pretty dancing away while we eat.’
‘She’s perfectly correct, Lucas,’ the woman in the black dress said. ‘Such girls have got to learn what’s expected of them sooner or later. It’s not as though it’ll do her any lasting harm.’
‘Absolutely right, dear,’ her companion said.
‘Thank you, Cornelius,’ she acknowledged.
‘You see, Aunty Portia and Uncle Cornelius agree,’ Rhea said.
Despite her own predicament, Claire was aware of the tension in the room. It seemed that the members of the family had different ideas about how to treat slave girls.
Tolliver sighed. ‘As you wish, Rhea,’ he said. He signalled to Birch. ‘Thank Mrs Hemlock for her fine display but can we have the Ice Trolley, please?’
‘Certainly, Sir,’ said Birch, and left the room.
He was back five minutes later directing Larch and Pine as they wheeled another trolley into the room. Clare’s trolley was pushed to one side and this new device took its place the end of the dining table.
It resembled the trolley she was resting on except that its top was shaped like a deep tray and it had a folding metal strut extending up from middle of one side. In the tray was a large square block of cloudy ice. The valets unfolded and extended the metal strut, which was of square section tubular metal, until it stood a man height above the top of the trolley. At its top was an inward facing bracket that supported a short crossbar, from each end of which dangled a heavy coil spring attached to a wire cord ending in a small noose. There was a second bracket a little below the top of the strut with a hook on its end. Lower down still was a third bracket which angled upwards at 45 degrees. This supported an adjustable rod with a dildo on the end. At the base of the main strut was a second pair of wire cords this time ending in rubber cuffs.
Clare was staring at the device with growing horror, realising just what use it could be put to. She moaned and squirmed in her bonds but of course she was quite helpless. She was going to entertain the diners whether she liked to or not.
Larch and Pine pulled the grapes and banana out of her orifices and removed the frilly paper hats from her toes. They cut the kitchen cords that trussed her up, except for those binding her wrists behind her, lifted her off the platter and dragged her, still stiff from her hogtie, over to the new trolley. They lifted her onto the tray and stood her up against the strut with her feet spread and resting on the sides of the tray, straddling the block of ice. While Pine steadied her from below, Larch stood on a chair to secure her in place.
The dangling nooses from the top bar were slipped over her breasts, pulled tight and adjusted until they were taut against their springs. The hook on the bracket below this was fastened to a ring on the back of her collar. The angled bracket below that, bearing the dildo, was adjusted and slid up into her anus. She whimpered and bit on her apple gag as it stretched her rear passage. Then they pulled her feet in from the sides of the tray onto the block of ice and secured them there with the set of wire rope cuffs. There was not enough slack on these cords to allow her to move her feet off it again. The bracket hooked to her collar and the anal rod hinged up and down but did not let her move aside.
‘That will be all,’ Tolliver said to the valets, who withdrew from the room again.
‘That’s what I want to see,’ Rhea said, looking Clare over with approval.
She was not the only one to admire her, of course. Despite their earlier bickering the whole dining party was staring at her suffering with close interest and apparent enjoyment.
Clare was moaning and shivering as the intense cold flowed up through her bare feet into her legs. She shuffled her feet and stomped them up and down, trying to ease the creeping pain. Unwilling she was dancing for their amusement.
The block under her feet was not of solid ice but seemed to have been formed from foamed water, so that it was more like compacted snow. This meant it did not quite deliver the intense cold of pure ice but it melted faster under her feet. A solid ice block of that size would have taken hours for her body warmth to melt through it. She could feel this was crumbling and melting under her feet by the minute. And as it melted she began to sink down into it, which meant the dildo in her rectum penetrated ever deeper and the nooses about her breasts grew steadily tighter.
As the dining party ate and chatted, sparing her occasional amused glances, her breasts began to the bulge and lift as they were pulled up by the sprung cords, while her dancing came even more frantic as the cold penetrated her body. Perversely her movements also meant she was ramming the dildo in and out of her greased anus, almost as though she was masturbating on it. And despite her acute pain shame and discomfort she found she was getting aroused by its jiggling presence inside her, as though her body with desperately trying to find some pleasure in the midst of her torment. Her nipples, as always it seemed, remained resolutely hard and upstanding. Just how far down the road of perversion could she be driven, she wondered miserably?
Meekly lined up by the serving trolley, awaiting their next instructions, Clare caught the chained slave girls flashing her occasional sympathetic glances. How many of them had been where she stood now? How many other breasts had these cruel nooses enclosed, or this dildo shared with rectums before hers? All she knew for certain was that this was the longest dinner she had ever known.
Finally, in between the main course the desert, Rhea left her seat and came over to Clare. She stroked her thighs and ran her fingers through the cleft of her sex, smiling as she did so. Her large serious brown eyes looked into Clare’s distraught face. By now Clare’s breasts were bulging like purple balloons high on her rib cage, while the dildo seemed to be driving its way up her spine. Her feet were now sunk in mushy icy water that had gathered in the tray under them and she was shivering with cold.
‘If I let you off this early, and not wait until I’ve finished my desert, you will try your best to please me tonight won’t you?’
Clare whimpered and nodded frantically. She knew she was being played with and manipulated but it made no difference. At that point she would have promised to have sex with the devil and do her best to please him. Except that it would be Swallow’s sacrifice, not hers. She must not forget that.
‘Good,’ Rhea said, ‘because I’m going to beat you and ride you and then you’re going to show me how good your tongue is.’
‘Very good indeed for a beginner,’ Jason assured her.
‘Don’t spoil her for Cornelius and me, will you, Rhea?’ said Portia.
‘Don’t worry I won’t, Auntie.’
Rear bent and adjusted something underneath the trolley tray. There was a gurgling and the icy water about Clare’s feet started to drain out into some lower container, taking its frigid embrace with it. Then Rhea moved round the back of the device and adjusted a wingnut in the base of the upright strut. The strut slid down by a few crucial centimetres, easing the tension in the nooses about Clare’s breasts and pulling the terrible dildo almost out of her rear. She was still impaled and bound and cruelly on display, but by contrast with the agony she had been going through it almost felt blissfully restful. A surge of pathetic gratitude flowed out of her towards Rhea for sparing her further torment, even though she knew perfectly well she had instigated it in the first place. The device had done its job well by teaching her who her masters were.


I find this author a bit hit & miss for my tastes but this is one of his bests. 5 out of 5

I give it a four but just barely. Two things I like about this book are how the mother and daughter at the end reveal to each other how slutty and submissive they both are and how they are more than happy to give themselves over to a master willing to use both of them. Other thing is Grail's play of words when describing a woman's body parts. Still It did'nt reach high enough but was ok. 4 out of 5 (Mr pushups)

perfect drive, one of his best books 5 out of 5 (Thomas)

Author Information

Simon Grail is an artist and author of many strong BDSM content A1 books, including the best sellers "Sex Slave Holiday","Hell School for Teachers" and "The Young Women of St Evals" and "The Bagatelle Club". Past works include:"The Purgatory Club" trilogy, the "Bondmaid" Saga sextet, the "Lesbian MILF Blackmail Gang", "Sisterhood of Submission", the "Dragon School" and "Castle of Slaves" novels, and several short stories including the ongoing "Breaking in..." and "Nightmare in..." series.


Publisher Information

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